What the World Has Come To
by ShadowClan7
Summary: A young man, representing the Daily Prophet, seeks to interview the Potters, only to find that things aren't as they should be at the Mansion. Rated M because I'm very, very paranoid. Gore and mentions of torture. Other things, too, but I can't say them without giving away the story. Warning: Character Death.


**I was feeling dark today.**

**-Shadow**

What the World Has Come To

My name is Alexander Hall, and I was a writer for the Daily Prophet. I was thirty-five years old when I experienced something that altered the course of my life forever.

It was the 21st of December. I had just been assigned my biggest story yet! This may not have seemed exciting to another witch or wizard, but it mattered to me. I was going to interview the Potters! You see, I'd had a history with Charlus Potter.

Like him, I had grown up in a wealthy pure-blood family. When I was eight, my home was ransacked by dark wizards, seeking riches. I'd heard stories about him over the years: Charlus Potter! Head of the Auror Department, working side by side with his wife to stop crime all over Wizarding Britain! Then, just like that, he showed up at our doorstep.

I remember watching he and two other men, one with light hair and one with dark, duel with the attackers. I stared in awe, watching the vibrant colors of the spells they were casting fly all over the room, yet neither I nor my family was hit with any single one of them. It was amazing, to say the least. I remember how Charlus casted that last spell, causing the last of the men to slump over, not dead, but stunned enough to have the auror form magical bonds. From that moment on, Charlus Potter was my hero.

I found out everything I could about him. I looked up newspaper clippings, I read books, and I even got this job, just to guarantee I'd get to meet him. Okay, well, not guarantee exactly. It was more of a slight chance. But still, there I was, about to personally meet the man I'd looked up to ever since I was eight. I was surprised I wasn't bouncing like a disorientated broomstick! Butterflies had formed in my stomach. By the time I was on the Potters' front lawn, they had grown to the size of hippogriffs. I took a deep breath and knocked. And waited.

And waited. I knocked again. Still no answer. I checked the time and the address. 805 Best St, Godric's Hollow at 1:20 in the afternoon. Yes, that was right. So, why weren't they answering? I didn't know what else to do, so I turned the knob to the front door, slowly. It swung open. It swung _open_.

I stepped through the door, entering a large foyer, with quartz pillars reaching towards the sky. Directly opposite me was a grand staircase, leading to the upper floors, which lead off to more halls and rooms. The floor was so clean that I could have eaten my supper off it. The Potter Mansion was truly a sight to behold.

It wasn't until I stepped forward slightly that I saw it. A bright red rug, leading off into another room, just around the corner. Except, it wasn't a rug. That couldn't be a _rug_. What was that? I felt nausea rising in my mouth as I stepped forward to examine it. No. This wasn't a rug at all.

It was blood. Hot, sticky, thick, gushing blood. I gasped for a clean breath as a stench came over me. The stench of death. Oh, no. This was not right at all.

I stepped into the room, trying my best to avoid the red liquid, but to no avail. I coughed with disgust as the heel of my right boot sank into the lake. I looked down at the ruined shoe, not wanting to look at what was in front of me. Not wanting to see what I knew I was going to see. I did not want to look up.

I looked up. And sure enough, there it was.

One body, two bodies, three bodies lying on the ground, their throats slit open, gushing ten times more blood than I'd ever seen in my life. But, of course, it wasn't just their throats. These were not scrapes, these were gouges. I'd never seen anything like it. It was like someone had taken the three, and used them with sparring practice. Except, they didn't have any defense and were practically standing out in the open. There were cuts everywhere, all the way down to the bone. I could _see their bones_.

I couldn't take it anymore. I ran to the corner of the room, and heaved up my lunch. Shivering, I sank down to the floor. I stared and I stared and I stared. I couldn't take my eyes off them. I could just make out a barely recognizable Charlus Potter, the tallest of the three. He had tried his best to fight. You could tell that much. If you looked closely enough, you could just see what looked like a hunk of flesh underneath his town and bloody fingernails. To his right, was a woman. No doubt Mrs. Potter. And, to his left, a younger boy. He looked about Hogwarts age, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Never getting to experience the rest of his life.

This wasn't humane.

After what seemed like a decade, or maybe it was fifteen seconds, I stood shakily to my feet, and made my way out the room. I stumbled out the door, tripping over everything I encountered. Then, I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran and I ran until didn't know anymore.

When I woke up, I could see starlight gleaming through the treetops. Wait, the treetops? How did I get in a forest? Then I remembered. I remembered the walking, the knocking, the entering, the blood, oh the blood. I remember seeing the look on their faces: pure terror. I remember everything. I remember my disorder. I remember. I did this. I did this. I look at the large scratch, stretched across my forearm.

Multiple personality disorder. That's what they called it. I had it. I've had it since I was born. There was this side. And then, there was the other side. I could remember. Breaking in, knives in hand, an army of death eaters behind me. I remember dragging them out, throwing them in the room. I remember the death eaters holding them down while I... while I...

The child was the first to go. James, James. His name was James. His father screamed it as I tore the child's limbs out. I made sure he felt every bit of it. Next, was the woman. Over and over and over again. They had to hold Charlus back the whole time. _Stop! Stop! _I was screaming at myself internally. But, I wouldn't listen to myself. And then, it was Charlus's turn. Oh, he felt it. He felt it fresh as day. In the end, I dug out his heart. Kept it for a souvenir.

I clawed at my head. I screamed. I screamed at the top of my lungs until my throat went dry. Even then, I kept trying. I could not stop. I would not stop. I could not stop. I would not stop. I stopped. I knew what I had to do. I did what I had to do. I went home. I went home. I found the rope I always used for holding that damn shed to the ground. It fell over without it. Into the creek. _Sploosh_! I formed a loop with one end of the rope and tied it tight, slipping it around my neck. The other end went around a thick tree branch. When did that chair get there? I took out Charlus's heart, red as a rose. I jumped.

**So, yea. Very dark. If you haven't caught on, the guy is crazy. Extremely crazy. Anyway, thanks for reading.**

**-Shadow**


End file.
